


Shadows of Hypori

by B_Radley



Series: Gandalf's Way [18]
Category: Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Conspiracy, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Multi, Post-Episode: s02e21-22 Twilight of the Apprentice, Remembrance of Conflicts Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-08 10:56:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10385082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley
Summary: While still reeling from a loss, the crew of theGhostand and their counterparts from Dragon Squadron return to a conflict of the past in order to fight a conspiracy that threatens to embroil the nascent Rebellion in being framed for assassination and murder.





	1. Dispatch

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place two months after _Twilight of the Apprentice_ and one month after _The Lowest Ebb_.

The young woman gazes at herself in the mirror. Her gray eyes track down to the gold double-triangular medallion around her neck. She fingers the engraving on the medallion; especially the four-pointed star with another in the center that overlaps the offset triangles. She wipes more of the steam from the mirror. Her hand touches a flimsi copy of a holo. A man with similar features; an older man; but one who is too young for the prematurely gray hair that he sports, smiles at the recorder with a crooked grin. Similar features, but a pair of warm green eyes instead of her gray. The gray of his father and her grandfather.

The green eyes a gift from his Mandalorian side. Her face, looking out at the camera, is placed against his chest. 

She feels another presence behind her. "So are you planning on admiring your chest there any longer, or can I get there to brush my teeth?" another towel-clad young woman snarks. "I don't know. Thought that if I stood here long enough, they would grow out more," Jamelyn Blackthorn says.

The other young woman laughs. "We don't have that long before Flight Quarters, Elector," the darker-hued young woman says, her amber and blue eyes crinkling. She dodges the towel whipped in her direction. Her face grows solemn as she sees what Jamelyn is looking at. 

She is one of the other other two people, mugging for the camera. 

The other woman, older than these two, but still young, smiles a wide smile at the camera. A young Togruta huntress, who is actually laughing at something that the older man says, is turned slightly towards him, her blue eyes locked with his green.

A woman now missing for two months. A woman that her entire family is grieving. 

Including the older man looking at her in the camera.

A man who grieves her loss, but is fairly certain that she is still alive, due to the persistent presence in that mystical energy field that was their birthright.

Talle Tredecima takes Jamelyn by the shoulders and kisses her on the ear. "I know, J," she says. "I miss her too. I just hope that Jame can heal."

Jamelyn nods absently. The emotion that she is feeling is not grief, except for her uncle. The emotion at the forefront of her mind is more primal.

Anger. Anger at the huntress for pushing, no, shoving Jame Blackthorn, away. Rejecting him, in some attempt at martyrdom. Of saving him from whatever she had to face. Whatever had taken her from them.

Not seeing what had been true for a decade, when they had discovered each was alive.

That he would've fought and died with her.

Not been left behind, to grieve. To be half-dead anyway.

She remembers when she had seen their final conversation, a year or so before Ahsoka went missing. Of the anger, fear, and pain in his eyes as he stalked away from the shore of that ancient lake.

Of the grief in Ahsoka's face, as she steeled herself against the pain. As she told the young Corellian woman to look out for him.

Of the shaking in the warrior's shoulders as she held her for the last time.

Of her pain turning to anger the next morning as she thought of what Ahsoka's actions could deprive her uncle of.

Precious time.

Of what it did deprive him of. 

As she puts her chin on the Elector's shoulder and gazes at them both in the mirror, Talle Tradecima sees the panoply of emotions being replayed in Jamelyn's eyes.

Her own eyes are troubled.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa Rhayme languidly watches the crimson-skinned woman pull her shirt on. The Zeltron's purple eyes are on her bronze ones. A knowing smile ghosts over her features, as she seals the shirt.

"Pity that work of art has to be covered, love," Lassa says. Dani's smile grows warmer. "I would rather keep it off, but not everybody can lounge about in bed for another half-hour," the woman says, as she affixes the rank plaque to her jacket and pulls it on.

"Why you're acting Commodore and not me."

Dani walks over to the bed and knees across. She reaches down and gently kisses the Pantoran ex-pirate. The kiss deepens as their tongues touch and tease. "I love you, my heart-bond," Lassa whispers.

Dani runs her hands over the two scarlet lines tattooed from the sides of Lassa's mouth. The only lines marking a face that comes from a culture that delights in marking every event.

Lines that honor the heart-bond, as well as the life and death of another dear to her. An ex-Sith and bounty hunter, dead these sixteen years or so.

"So is Jame going to get us back?" she asks. Dani's face grows serious. "I don't know. They have him in the penalty box. I guess that is what he gets when he causes a senior staff officer to only be able to eat soft foods for a while."

Lassa's eyes flash. "Said senior staff member should've kept his piehole shut in Jame's presence when raising theories that Fulcrum had defected to the Empire."

Dani sighs. "I know, sweetie. But Jame probably shouldn't have hit him. Raises doubts in Command's eyes as to whether or not he is fit for his command."

"Means a lot coming from a bunch of assholes who have not spent a lot of time _doing_ any fighting. Hell, the Phoenix Cell and us have been the most active in the Rebellion. It's why he has that full captaincy and title of Commodore."

"I know. You are preaching to the converted, love."

"So what is this op coming up?"

Dani takes her in her arms. Lassa rests her face on her shoulder. "Jame sent it to us. I guess as part of his punishment, they have made him Dodonna's operations officer."

Both of them chuckle at the thought of Jame Blackthorn as a staff officer. "He has gotten word from Touchstone." Both sets of eyes track downward at the mention of the codename. The codename of another loved one.

Although one who was sometimes hard to love. 

Lassa starts to say something. Dani shakes her head. "It doesn't mean he is alive, Lassa. Just may be another one of his automated info drops guaranteed to get us going."

"Jame wanted a small team to rendezvous with another cell and try to follow the lead."

"Okay. So who are we sending?" the pirate asks.

Dani is silent as she thinks. She nods, as if making a decision. "Maybe it will do Jamelyn and Talle good to get out of here for a while. Talle came to me and asked what was wrong with the Elector."

Lassa doesn't engage. Instead she nods and changes the subject. "Okay. Any idea who we are meeting?"

"The Ghosts. They are rendezvousing with us when we revert."

"It will do Jamelyn and Talle good to see Sabine. Someone their own age that won't have Bridger hitting on them."

Dani smiles slightly. "Wouldn't be so sure. Sabine has a few hormones, as well."

"Any idea what this is about?" 

"Don't know. Jame was cryptic, more than usual. It could be something about Draq' or Elle. That was what Ahsoka left for them on Garel; just couldn't decrypt it. There was a piece missing," the Zeltron replies, her eyes welling for both of those names. 

Two more missing members of their family. One since the Clone Wars. One, her own father, more recent. Lassa wipes the beginnings of tears from the now-black eyes.

Dani shakes her head. Lassa drops her hand, allowing her heart-bond to gather herself.

The loudspeaker comes on at that moment. " _Set Condition 1-N throughout the ship. Man battle stations for reversion to normal space. Stand by to raise shields._ "

Lassa sighs and looks for her underwear. "Guess I had better get over to the _Opportunity._ " She grins. "Only reason we are docked in hyperspace is so the acting-Commodore can get her ashes hauled." The words end in a slight scream as a feather-soft finger plays over a spot behind her right ear.

She and Dani are lost in one another for a brief moment before the struggle continues.

~+~+~+~+~+

Dani Faygan holds Hera Syndulla tightly to her in the corridor outside of the airlock. Hera folds herself into the warm embrace. "It is so good to see you, Heras'yndulla," Dani whispers in only slightly accented Twi'leki.

"And you as well, DaaineranF'aygan," Hera replies in the same language. Lassa smirks at the two of them. _Looks like someone has learned to control her reaction to the resonance_ , she thinks, as she hugs Sabine tightly to her.

The emerald blushes are kept to a minimum. The lekku, however, seem to be twitching more than normally in the pilot's cap that binds them.

"How is King doing?" Hera asks, asks as they break apart. "Don't know, really, dear," Dani says. "We haven't seen him in weeks."

"Did that Colonel actually suggest to the High Command that Ahsoka had defected? In front of him?" Sabine asks. "Yes, he did," Lassa says darkly. "Fortunately, he and Jame are the same rank, so he didn't hit a subordinate or a superior officer. Dodonna is reluctant to court-martial a fighter like him. But there may be some further sanction."

"There is not a lot holding him in the Rebellion, right now," Hera says quietly. 

"I think that may be the only thing saving him, right now," says another voice from the airlock.

Hera and Sabine are treated to the sight of two high-ranking naval officers seizing their passenger, a tall, beautiful human in her early thirties in a tight embrace. Of the three women holding each other tightly for several minutes.

When the three break apart, the newest member of the meeting smiles. "Didn't know you cared, so much," Nola Vorserrie says, wiping her eyes.

"It is so good to see you, Nola. What are you doing here? I thought you were on Naboo, trying to see how you could help the cell there."

"I was. Still am. The information that Touchstone gave in his latest points us towards something that might have grave consequences for Naboo."

"Really? We thought it might have information on some of our missing."

"There may be some in there, but we have to act on this. Pretty quickly."

Lassa's eyes flash. "Don't dismiss our hopes so goddamned lightly, Vorrserrie. Don't know why the hell we care so much for a world ruled by an Imperial stooge."

Nola starts toward Lassa. "You might want to keep your mouth shut about things that you don't know a goddamned thing about, Rhayme," she says, to where she can look down on the Pantoran, who is not a small woman.

Dani steps in between the two women. "Enough!" she says forcefully. "None of us have to bring out our sorrows like a kriffing competition," she says. "There is enough hurt to go around."

Nola and Lassa look at one another. The two women back away. "I'm sorry, Nola," Lassa says, quietly, "I know you have been dreading this loss for longer than most of us, if not all."

She doesn't have to specify which loss. Nola Vorrserrie nods. "Me too, Lassa. When this is over, let's drink some." She smiles tightly. "Let's drink a lot."

"Where is everyone else, Hera?" asks Dani?

"It is just Sabine and I, Commander. Rex and Zeb are on another mission for Jame," the pilot says. She looks down. "Kanan and Ezra are...solving some Jedi issues."

She doesn't elaborate. Her silence speaks volumes.

Dani nods and motions them along. "Come on. Talle and Jamelyn are waiting."

All are silent as they contemplate the past, as well as consider a dark future for a small, beautiful planet.


	2. Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More revelations, including an unknown past.

Sabine Wren fires her right Westar at the Imperial troopers scaling the upper deck of the _Acclamator_ class assault ship's wreckage. Her left blaster is cooling down and unable to fire. She looks across to her companion on the starboard side of the remnants of the main bridge. The Corellian is calmly firing a DL-44 carbine at their attackers.

The powerful blaster knocks down one Imperial minion with each shot, generally causing them to fall into others below them. Sabine smiles behind her bucket as she looks at the young woman's face. Jamelyn wears a full set of _beskar'gam,_ but only wears a mask covering the lower half of her face and eyeshields over the upper half. The gray eyes, eyes that usually look out at the world with the same warm humor and snark that her uncle does, are sharp with anger.

Anger not at their enemies, although they are convenient targets.

Anger at one of their own, for a choice that she had made. The right choice at the time, she had thought.

Anger at the rest of her family for their grief.

Anger at herself for her feelings. Feelings for her uncle and his grief that she cannot assuage.

Sabine's mouth is set in a hard line as she remembers the young Elector's anger at her, just before this battle had begun.

Anger at her grief and memory of a beloved teacher. For a brief moment, someone more; someone she could grab the light with.

She feels the pulse in her hand that indicates that her second blaster is online again. She peers through her HUD at the tactical display.

Jamelyn's anger can wait.

~+~+~+~+~+

Talle Tredecima, born of a horrifying experiment by those who were the precursors to the Empire that has destroyed so much of her family's loves and friends sits at the large wooden table watching her best friend; _no, near about my sister._ Jamelyn's face is expressionless and set in stone.

A face that is generally smiling and laughing has had this same look for nearly two months. Since her uncle's love, his hunt-sister, had not come back from a mission.

A look of sorrow and grief initially, along with the rest of the family, but one that had quickly turned to anger as she saw the pain that had nearly destroyed her uncle.

At least in her eyes. 

Talle smiles gently. She is the product of an experiment, a combination of the genetic material of a clonetrooper and a Jedi. An experiment that her makers were ready to discard and destroy as soon as they had proven she couldn't produce any Force sensitivity.

They had not counted on the stubbornness of the girl's Jedi mother and Null-clone father.

A stubbornness that, along with other Jedi and a number of equally stubborn Corellians, had saved her. A stubbornness that had manifested itself in the love of a single father - untrained, but schooled in love by Elle Jaquindo, the Chalactan Jedi Knight who had claimed him - body and soul.

A mother, missing since the Clone Wars.

People had told her father, known as Drop, but with the adopted family name of Tredecima, that she was dead, too.

Something neither had given up on. She could understand her father's brother, first known to him as Taliesin Croft, Jedi Padawan, not giving up on the spotty Force presence that appears to be communicating with him. A light that is still present, as if alive, when his gift works.

She stands as several people enter the room. Nola Vorserrie walks over to where Jamelyn has risen and inclines her head formally. "Hello, Elector," she says quietly. The young woman smiles and takes Nola into her arms. "Hello, Aunt Nola," she says. "I am so glad to see you." 

They hold each other for several seconds. In the meantime, Hera and Sabine walk over to her. "Hey, Talle," Sabine says. "How's it going?" They clasp arms in warrior fashion, then pull each other into an embrace. "Not bad, 'bine," she says. "You?" 

"The usual. Keeping everybody in line and from killing each other. Trying to keep Ezra's hormones in check. You can tell my uncle when you see him that he did get his haircut. He seems to be adopting to the blaster he gave him."

Talle grins. "Never thought Jame would give that thing up. He's had it since before the Clone Wars." Her grin morphs into a gentle smile at the memory of the story. "He 'liberated' it from a spice smuggler while supposedly rescuing his master. Apparently also nearly became the playtoy of a Hutt."

"You'll have to tell me that story, sometimes, Talle." She looks across as Nola blows Talle a kiss. "Think we need to get started."

Nola sits with the others around her. "We got a coded transmission at Command. It was addressed to Jame. As you may know, he still gets these messages from Touchstone, his slicer, every once in a great while, ever since he went off the grid. His partner has confirmed the packet has his idiosyncratic codes in it."

"Captain Syndulla, Lieutenant Wren, your team participated in the retrieval of one of these messages last month. A message that was actually set up by Fulcrum before she...." She stops; appears to be gathering herself. "Before she went to Malachor," she finishes in a whisper.

Talle's eyes burn hot as she sees Jamelyn's stony expression; her gritted teeth. Sabine and Hera notice as well. Sabine saves them all from a more heated expression. "What did the packet we retrieved on Garel give us? I know Uncle Jame was hoping that it would give up the location of some of your missing, if they are still alive. Including Touchstone, himself." Nola looks at Talle. "I know that Jame probably hasn't said anything, but he was hoping that we might be able to find your mother."

Talle looks down. Sabine grasps her shoulder. Their similar eyes lock. She looks away and sees Jamelyn with a pained expression on her face as she looks at Talle.

 _Well, at least there is something besides anger in there,_ she thinks.

"As much as I want to find our people," Dani Faygan says, "this is a lot of rebellion resources for personal reasons, even though everyone would be a powerful and valued member of the cause."

Talle is about to stand up, her face growing hot, again. Dani reaches over and takes her hand in hers. "Easy, Talle. I have just as much reason to want to find our missing as you. I know what it is like to have a parent on that list."

Talle looks at her. "I am sorry, Aunt Dani. I would never belittle your father's life like that," she whispers.

Dani pats her hand. "I know, sweetie."

Nola nods at both of them. "Apparently Touchstone knew that as well. That is why he put as much of whatever other intelligence he has gleaned into the packet. Some important, some not so much."

"This one only had a few words that we could decrypt with the code that he sent. 'Blue Shadow Virus,' was one. The other seemed to be more personal. Either for Jame or Dani."

"What does the first part mean, other than the obvious deadly virus?" Hera asks. "We think it refers to a Separatist plot to destroy Naboo in the early part of the war." Nola replies, her eyes hard. "A Separatist scientist managed to infiltrate the wilderness and nearly released the virus in the atmosphere. Several Jedi and troopers put a stop to it." She looks purposefully at Dani and Lassa. "Ahsoka, who was not quite, or barely fifteen years old, and my kinswoman Padme' Amidala were infected, as well as Captain Rex and other troopers. Ahsoka's Master and his former Master managed to find the antidote in time."

"From what I heard, many years later, Ahsoka was very near death, probably because of her youth."

"Do we think that Touchstone stumbled onto the Empire's plans to reuse the virus?" Lassa speaks for the first time. She has been in deep thought since the meeting had begun.

Nola shrugs. "I don't know. But someone has tried to introduce it before, or even develop it on Naboo. We can't take that chance." Her eyes lock on the pirates. "And before you say anything else about Naboo's Imperial stooge, know that she has been working with me. That is all that I will say. Plus, we can't punish an entire world for one ruler's perceived misdeeds. Only Imperials deal in absolutes like that."

Lassa nods, still in thought. Thoughts of those missing and dead. She rests her chin on her right hand; her thumb and finger on tattooed lines from her mouth. Her left hand rests on the butt well-used blaster in a crossdraw rig on her belt. She finally speaks again. "What is the second part? The part for Dani and Jame?"

"Like I said. Much more cryptic." She pulls her comm. "It says, and I quote, 'the threat is located on a world that Tal's master never told him about during the early months of the war."

Lassa and Sabine happen to be watching Dani. They see her crimson face go pale; her expression shocked."

She no longer hears the conversation that has erupted around her. Instead, she hears a musical voice whispering into her ear.

~+~+~+~+~+

Dani gasps as the cool hand moves about her core, its fingers insistent. A pair of sharp teeth pierce the lobe of her ear, as the Jedi Master's voice whispers through her consciousness. She smiles as she hears the words of her birth-language. The sibiliants in her lover's accent resonate through her in the language that she hasn't heard on a regular basis since she was a child.

She certainly hadn't heard these words as a child. Then again, she thinks, with the last part of her brain that works, _I am a Zeltron._

She screams as light flares in that unworking part of the brain.

Later, she lies languidly on the bed, nearly two meters of Togruta huntress lying on her back. She can feel Shaak Ti's heartbeat slowing to its still-rapid tattoo against her back. Ti traces the lightsaber scar on her back, only a month or so old, with her lips.

Dani starts as the huntress's lips play over a sensitive spot. She jumps slightly. In doing so, her elbow connects with the older woman's side.

A brief scream cuts through Dani's being. The young woman feels the weight disappear from her back. She turns and sees Ti guarding her ribs with her teeth clenched in pain. Something she has only seen in passion and love passes through the Master's eyes.

Tears. 

But only for an instant, as she closes her eyes and centers herself in the dim light.

Dani pushes herself up and palms the lights on. She immediately crouches down and pulls Ti's hand from her side. Ti tries to cover her red skin, but Dani looks at her with steel.

She gasps as she sees the fading bruises all up and down the woman's side, as well as on her back and her left arm. She touches the ribs gently, ignoring the winces. Her eyes widen at the still-brittle, but now-whole indicator of a bacta immersion.

"Shaak, love, you've broken ribs!" she exclaims.

"Shattered, actually," she says dryly. 

"How?"

Shaak is quiet for a moment. "It is what happens when you are hurled against a rock wall by an angry cyborg."

She doesn't elaborate. Dani can tell that she doesn't want to talk about it.

"Does Tal know?" the CorSec officer asks.

Ti smiles. Dani rolls her eyes. "Let me guess. You want me to lie about something else."

Her anger flares. "Goddammit, Ti. He deserves to know. He is your Padawan."

"I am sworn to protect him, Daaineran. Not the other way around. That includes keeping his mind in the here and now, to keep he and his troopers alive."

"That is pure, unadulterated, unmitigated bullshit, Master. He would do anything to protect you. He loves you like a parent."

Ti smiles ruefully. "That may be my biggest failing. She hangs her head. "I will soon be healed. Plus, I will be out of combat here on Kamino. You can tell him if you wish. But I ask that you still not tell him about my curse."

The 'Curse,' - the affliction that can cause debilitating pain to the Master. An affliction due to her heritage as a master huntress in her culture.

Ti reaches over and kisses her tears away. "I know, Dani. I hate this. But it must be so." 

A warmer hand touches her cheek and she is back in the present. She looks at the others, who have listened to her relate parts of her story.

The parts that she will share. Except with the woman to her left. She will share everything with her.

Her present heart-bond is looking into her eyes; her own eyes filled with love and care.

"The planet is called Hypori. Site of a devastating Jedi defeat."


	3. Execution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More revelations and anger as a plan is formulated.
> 
> Formulated on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Situations mentioned from Merfilly's _Claims Made_ , a beautiful extension of the story of Ahsoka and Sabine's interactions.

Talle Tredecima dives between the two TIE fighters; corkscrewing wildly. She twists and slams the engines to their mountings, pulling the yoke back to her stomach.

A stomach that is left behind several kilometers behind. The TIES twist, but just not enough. One solar fin touches another and they spin into each other.

"Not too bad, little girl. Guess you have been spending some time doing something besides playing with your dollies," comes a light voice in her ear.

"Well, if you would get out of your rocking chair, old woman, and come cover my ass, I might not have to do all of this fancy flying," she snarks.

The light voice in her ear grows serious, but still light. "Break right, love, now!" Hera shouts. Without thinking, Talle slams the controls over. She sees the gambit, as plain as day. She banks right, just as Hera banks left, crossing within a meter of each other's leading edge.

Her A-Wing's cannon spark just as the psycho astromech - _Chopper, is it?_ unleashes the nose and dorsal turrets of the Corellian freighter.

Two TIE fighters explode. Talle wants to scream with exhilaration. Both of their shots had missed each other by a hairsbreadth.

She does scream when they both repeat the maneuver, switching the positions, top to bottom. The final two TIEs from the _Gozanti_ transport blossom in multi-colored explosions.

The armed transport jumps away like a scurry-bug.

"Beautiful flying, dear. You are a natural," Hera says. Talle smiles behind her bucket. "You ain't so bad yourself, Captain."

"Come on and dock. Let's see if we can get the personality twins out of there and figure out what to do next."

 _Great. Means I have to face them both again._ Her eyes tear. _I love you, my sister. No matter how big of a bantha's ass you are._

~+~+~+~+~+

Sabine watches Dani take deep breaths as she centers herself. She smiles as she thinks of someone else who she has watched center themselves. _Ten years of friendship; I guess someone can pick up some things from Jedi._ Her own eyes close as she remembers watching Ahsoka centering herself while she sat for the young artist, her powerful huntress's body on display.

Of the moments of abandoning calm for both of them, as they fell into each other.

Something that she is fairly certain she has shared with the woman trying to center her emotions now. 

She stands and pulls the older woman into her arms for a brief hug. "Tell us, Commander. _Dani._ In your own way," she says.

Dani smiles. "I'm okay, love," she says. They both sit.

"Hypori was not something that the Jedi were too proud of. In the words of my current heart-bond, _they got their collective asses kicked,"_ she says. The heart-bond in question's eyes crinkle in a smile. 

"I thought that Hypori took place a little later," Nola says. "You said that it was only a month or so after you and Ti had met."

"Yeah. The Jedi were intentionally vague about it. Couldn't let the Republic know that there was something that could kill several Jedi and a Padawan, as well as slaughter a battalion of clones with his droids."

"How many Jedi?" 

"I know of two survivors besides Shaak. Aayla Secura had been tossed around as well and was unconscious like Ti when the ARC troopers managed to pull them out. Ki-Adi-Mundi was the only one standing and he was pretty ragged according to her."

"Wasn't there a rumor of another one that survived?" Hera asks. "Yeah. Couldn't confirm that one." Dani finishes.

"Hypori didn't fare so well in the Empire, either," Nola adds. "We have intelligence reports of some sort of weapons research going on there, very early after the fall of the Republic, just like the rumors all over, like Geonosis. Something must've happened, because it disappeared."

"Disappeared," she repeats. "The rumors say a squadron of Stardestoyers ended it from orbit."

"Commander, did you ever tell the Commodore?" Talle asks. Dani Faygan smiles wistfully.

"Not until after the war. There was so much going on and when we did see each other, we were usually just trying to stay alive." She closes her eyes. "I told him - I came clean on Takodana when we reconnected. Even about her disease."

When she opens her eyes, she notices Jamelyn looking at her. She raises her eyebrows. "I guess there had been enough time. He accepted it."

"I guess that there is a lot of that going around."

Sabine and Talle's eyes flash at the Elector. Sabine stands. "What the hell does that mean, Jamelyn?" Talle says. "Just what I said," the young Corellian says. "A lot of 'not coming clean' and not being truthful in the so-called interest of protecting someone."

They all feel a spark of anger as Dani's emotions flow into them. She starts to get up, but sits as Lassa places her hand on her arm. Lassa jerks her head at the tableau building.

"If you're talking about Ahsoka, then you need to keep your fucking mouth shut, Jamelyn," Sabine says. "You didn't see what we faced on Lothal. Ahsoka told me that we would never have to face that Sith Lord again; that if we were, it was because she was already dead."

Jamelyn starts to say something, but closes her mouth. "I may not have known her as long as you, but even the little discussion we had; even before I knew what Jame meant to her, I saw the look that came into her eyes when she talked of him - of her hunt-brother," the young Mandalorian says.

"You don't think that he wouldn't do the same damn thing to her and for her, if the roles were reversed?"

Jamelyn stares at Sabine. "You're right. You haven't known her as long. You don't have any clue what the hell that you are talking about. So why the hell don't you stay out of this?"

Sabine clenches her fists. She turns and stalks out of the room.

Jamelyn doesn't quit once her principle antagonist has left. "I don't know what would've happened if the roles were reversed. I only know that my uncle has been ripped apart by her choice. That I don't even know if he is alive, half the time." She looks at all of them. "Hell, half the time he still believes that he is communicating with her. I can't even get him to let her go."

"Who the hell are you to question his faith, _Elector?"_ Talle says, her own anger building. "You have been storming around here ever since he told us that he thought she might still be alive." Her words come in a staccato rhythm that the others can feel to their hearts. "I don't think that you're all that concerned about Jame. I think you are just thinking about how you are worried that you'll have to deal with people talking about your crazy uncle. You're worried about how it will look for you."

"What you don't see is that the lowliest grease-monkey on our ships has more faith in he and the Force than you do. You of all people of this generation knows what they mean to each other and the connection they have."

She stops, as if she has suddenly run out of energy.

Jamelyn is silent, her expression unreadable.

Lassa sees Dani's expression. She stands up. "Alright, that's enough. You three have to figure out how you can stand to be in the same ship together, long enough to accomplish the mission. If any of you feel like you can't, speak now, and I will reassign you."

The remaining two are silent. "I didn't think so. Get the hell out of my sight," she says, an edge to her voice. "The _Ghost_ and Talle's fighter, the _Elle_ will be leaving in a half-hour. Captain Syndulla will be in command. You will figure out a plan in hyperspace. Dismissed."

The two young women salute and exit. Talle noticeably standing away from the Elector, who leaves first.

The four older women remain silent around the table. Finally, Nola speaks. "You did right, Lassa, in not intervening. It looked like to me that it has been building for a while." She smiles. "Just wish it was not right before a major mission that we don't have any fucking clue what we are facing or even what we are doing there."

Lassa and Dani both nod. "Hera, you are going to have to deal with these three idiots. Would you like one of us to go along? We really need a small team for this."

Hera smiles at them "No. I can handle this. I saw the care that both Talle and Jamelyn showed for each other and Jame when you were at the Base last. I could see the trust that he has for all of you. They will have to work it out."

She looks at the door that the three women have exited from. "I know Sabine very well. I don't know the other two as well, but I think that all three of them are exceptional young women. They will handle it." She smirks. "Plus, I have Chopper and his trusty shock prod. He can deliver a shock to the ass of at least two at a time. He may have been holding out on me. May be able to get three at a time."

The four laugh. "I am glad," Dani says. "Otherwise I would have to say, _I am not running a goddamned nursery school here. They can get their shit together."_ All of the women laugh as this is delivered in a creditable cadence and imitation of a warm, but firm Corellian drawl."

The four of them are silent as they think of the owner of that voice and what he is enduring.

~+~+~+~+~+

Jamelyn Blackthorn, the Elector of Corellia, sits in the dorsal turret of a battered Corellian freighter. A freighter that is the home of a family as tightly-knit and caring as her own.

One that is reeling from their own loss and pain. The loss of Kanan's eyes. The apparent loss of Ezra's confidence in the Force, and possibly even his soul.

The shared loss of Ahsoka Tano. Her eyes tear as she thinks of the huntress. Of the many things that she had taught the young Corellian. Of the care that she had shown in everything that Jamelyn had done. Of the love that the woman had shown her uncle.

She thinks of the time that Ahsoka and her uncle had lost. Of the fact that her uncle may be as lost as Ahsoka is.

She starts as she hears footsteps on the ladder. She smiles as she sees Hera Syndulla balancing two caf cups as she climbs into the turret. Wordlessly, she hands one to Jamelyn and turns to look out at the chaos at hyperspace.

Jamelyn shakes her head. "Captain, I..." She falls silent as Hera turns to look at her. The jade-green gaze cuts through her, as much as a slightly different green gaze would when she had done something stupid. Her heart skips as she realizes that the similar gazes had the same underlying warmth in them. The warmth designed to help her grow from her mistakes.

"I am sorry, Captain, for what I said in the briefing," she blurts out. The green gaze continues to lock her with its power. "Are you really, Jamelyn? Or just how you said it?"

_Dammit. Just like Uncle Jame._

"I don't know, Captain. I don't know what to believe. I love them both, but I see what Ahsoka's choice has done to my uncle. I..."

She falls silent. "Have you ever heard the words of the oath that they took to one another when they were young? So very young?"

"No. Kanan told me that it is something to do with the Hunt in her culture."

"Yes. I heard him recite it to her as I walked up to them, just as she was pushing him away. They were both so hurt and angry." She grows silent. Her voice takes on a formal tone. _"I claim you as my hunt-sister, in the traditions of my clan and yours. I will not fight your battles for you, as you are skilled and capable to fight them for yourself, but I will fight them with you and face all who face you."_

Hera realizes she is holding her breath at the words. "Those are beautiful words, Jamelyn." 

The younger woman smiles. "Yes, they are. Both of them had to learn to live with the idea of what 'with' and 'for' meant." She grows distant. "I think it was a struggle, early on, when they re-connected. Jame apparently abandoned her to go fight a battle for her, because he felt that she was more important than him in the grand scheme of things."

Hera takes her hand in hers. "Jamelyn, my crew faced the threat that Ahsoka faced on Malachor. He nearly killed us all. I know that your uncle is skilled, but his abilities are impacted," the pilot says.

"I know. He knows more than anyone. But I know that wouldn't stop him from rushing in. Especially at her side."

"She never thought any less of him; she had the utmost respect for his ability to overcome; his skill as a fighter and a leader," she finishes.

They both fall silent. "I am not sure, Jamelyn, but there was something personal in what Ahsoka sensed. She would not tell any of us, but she was different after that. We hadn't known her long; she was always so serious and calm, but she seemed like she was in pain with her thoughts. I think that she, either rightly or wrongly, felt that it was something she had to handle." Her eyes grow sad. "Something she had to fix."

"I didn't know." the Elector whispers. "It makes it even more painful."

Hera brings her hand up to her lips and kisses it. Jamelyn hangs her head. "Guess I have been an ass. I guess I have lost a couple of friendships. One who has been my sister since I was a little girl. The other that I have so much respect for and wanted to get to know better."

"I don't think that you have lost any respect. I don't know Talle, but I think that she is very level-headed." She smiles. "You don't get to be a squadron leader at her age without it." Her smile grows wistful. "Sabine, well, if I was old enough to have a daughter her age, which I am not," she says with a sharp look, "she is exactly what I would want."

"Don't ever tell her that, by the way."

Jamelyn's rejoinder is lost in an interruption from Chopper. A long interruption and litany of complaints. "Can it, you little ingrate," the Captain says. "We are on our way."

"Well, sounds like it is time to pull a plan out of our asses," Hera says, to Jamelyn's surprise. She softens. "Don't worry, Elector. I saw a lot of love in your squadron. In your family. It will work itself out. We each mourn and love in our own way."

~+~+~+~+~+

As they walk into the cockpit, Sabine spins around from the communications console. "Hera, we are picking up something. Something on Talle and Jamelyn's freq."

Jamelyn sits behind the pilot's seat and pulls her earpiece on. She nods. "That is Touchstone's signature. It seems to be on a repeat loop."

Talle looks at Jamelyn. "Yeah, sis, that is what I thought, too. I wanted you to confirm it, since you spend so much time on the bridge of the _Bucket."_ A hopeful, tentative smile flows to her darker features. "Since I am the better pilot."

Jamelyn is quiet, but for only a half-second. "In your dreams, Droplet," she says, her own smile hopeful.

"Captain's brat."

"Stink-eye."

"Princess."

They both stop as they realize that Hera is looking at them both with a wide smile. They both blush.

Both Sabine and Chopper seem unimpressed. Sabine stares at Jamelyn, but doesn't say anything.

Jamelyn's look grows hard again. _Okay, this one will take some more time,_ Hera thinks.

Hera's eyes roll. "Where is the signal coming from?"

Sabine looks at the screen. She realizes that Jamelyn is standing very close to her. Both put distance between them. _Okay. A lot more time,_ comes the Twi'lek's thought.

"It seems to be coming from the wreckage of the old assault transport."

Hera nods. "According to what Dani found, that is where the last stand of the Jedi took place."

She is thoughtful. "What do you think, Sabine?" she asks of her tactical expert.

Jamelyn can see the young woman's mind going over possibilities. A mind thinking of plans and discarding them.

All in the space of about fifteen seconds.

"Hera, I think that she," pointing at the Elector, " and I should take the _Phantom_ and put down near the wreckage. We can explore a bit; see what we can find. You and Talle can be our air cover in the _Ghost_ and the _Elle._

"Any objections? Can you two work together?" Hera asks, her eyes brooking no nonsense.

"Yes, Hera. I can," Sabine says. Jamelyn looks at Sabine. After a moment, she smiles and replies. "I can, too, Captain."

"Good. Then get your asses out of my cockpit."


	4. Extrication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions run high as the reasons for the trip become more apparent. An uncle fights for his family, even against his own forces.

Sabine looks down the broken deck of the assault ship. They have been steadily crisping and dropping Imperials for the last hour. Jamelyn had found a charging station to reload their dropped power packs. Now the race was on to see if the barrels would melt on their three blasters or if they would lose the Tibanna gas in the weapons.

Or the bucketheads would figure out how to get through the wrecked corridors and turbolifts to flank them.

A clattering noise interrupts her mindless firing. "Grenade!" Jamelyn yells. She slides over and manages to toss it where it came from.

Screams echo up through the shattered viewports of the bridge as the grenade explodes. She nods at Jamelyn and smiles behind her bucket. _I'll say one thing for her. She has got the Blackthorn guts._

Her smile fades as she thinks of what Hera had whispered to her before she boarded the _Phantom. "We all mourn and love in our own way, my love,"_ she had said.

She peeks down. The front echelon of climbing stormies had been wiped out by the explosion of the grenade, as well as the subsequent explosion of the grenade about to be thrown.

She sees Jamelyn start to pick off troopers at a longer range with her carbine. She sits down and begins to reload her Westars. She watches the young woman as she fires, a tooth worrying her lip in concentration. The Elector has pulled her mask down in the heat, but has kept her eye protection on with its small HUD.

They had bonded quickly over grief and common interests when Jamelyn's squadron had first visited Atollon, soon after Ahsoka's loss. Concern for their common uncle, from different sides of his heritage had further bonded them.

This time, Jamelyn had been quiet. Full of coiled anger. Her grief more oppressive. A grief that had nearly culminated in blows or weapons being drawn. 

Jamelyn pauses in her systematic firing and looks at Sabine. Sabine takes in the colors of her _beskar'gam._ The black of justice. Justice for her family, the exiled Elder Family of Corellia.

The red stripe across the front and shoulders. 

Honor paid to a father, as well as the skin-color of her foster and adopted mother. Sabine smiles. _Honor paid to an uncle, as well, most probably._ An uncle who had helped raise her, as well as other aunts and uncles. 

A number of aunts, including a beautiful and powerful huntress.

She starts as Jamelyn says, "What?" 

"Nothing," Sabine replies, her helmet hiding her blush. Jamelyn is about to reply when the bridge is rocked by an explosion. Both women are thrown back from the edge. Sabine manages to crawl back to the port. She zooms her HUD and rangefinder in. "This ain't good," she yells. She points down the expanse of shattered deck. 

About twenty imperial troopers surround an Imperial AT-DP, the magnetic clamps on its feet taking small steps up the incline. Its single cannon is busily swiveling and firing at their position.

"If you have any bright ideas in that hard Corellian head of yours, twit, I am open to anything," Sabine says.

"Thought you were the tactical genius, sweetums," comes the rejoinder.

"Nope. I am just another pretty face," Sabine retorts. 

"Then we are in serious trouble."

"Bitch."

"Sabine..." Jamelyn says, a hint of warning in her voice, as the bridge is rocked and another part falls off. "Working on it, dear," the Mandalorian says.

A loud roar, followed by a series of explosions rocks the entire ship. "Look!" Jamelyn shouts and points.

A diamond shaped freighter sweeps over the deck, its cannon firing repeatedly.

The remaining troopers and the walker are swept from the deck.

Both women see the freighter and an accompanying A-Wing sweep over to the canyon where the small shuttle waits patiently.

Sabine and Jamelyn slump next to one another, their armored shoulders touching. Any anger temporarily forgotten in the celebration of life. Jamelyn notices the color of Sabine's armor; the bright colors not truly corresponding to the established canon of Mando colors.

_Plenty of orange and purples, of a sort._

_A lust for life and luck._ In her Corellian tradition, the purple hue has another meaning.

The same as black in the Mando tradition. _Justice._

As she looks at the armor and its wild colors, she remembers something of her uncle's armor. A small handprint, on the right side of the green chestplate.

In this same, wild array of colors.

Opposite a slightly larger one with the orange and black of his late, beloved wife.

Her eyes tear as Sabine pulls her helmet off. Jamelyn reaches over and touches the back of the Mando's head. She pulls it towards her and brings their foreheads together gently. For an instant, Sabine's dark eyes flash dangerously.

They soften at the culmination of the move. As Jamelyn's tears dot Sabine's cheek, she brings her own arms around the back of the Corellian.

Their tears mingle as they think of their families. 

_Aliit._

~+~+~+~+~+

The uniformed woman brings the range finder back up to the ceiling of the small command AT-DP. She curses as she sees the remainder of the small stormtrooper detachment swept away. The two rebel ships zoom away.

Her aquamarine eyes are hard as her anger grows. She quells it. She claps her hand on the shoulder of the gunner beside her.

"What is the status of the infiltration units?" she asks, her quiet voice deceptive in her gentleness.

"T-they are making their way to the rebels' position, Doctor." he says. She smiles at the fear.

The advantage of doll-like features is that everyone underestimated you until you slit their throat.

"Good. They have to kill the rebels. No one can know of our plans." She pauses, calculating.

"Send another team of remaining infiltrators to take care of the rebels that land."

"Yes, Doctor."

Noar Zan Arbor smiles to herself as she thinks of her plans. _This will show that eunuch Orson Krennic what I can do._

~+~+~+~+~+

Hera Syndulla stands next to the young Dragon pilot, watching the _Ghost_ swing away. She looks down at the _Phantom_ and Talle's fighter. Their only remaining escape, unless Chopper can get back down to them.

"Well, I guess we need to find out if they have killed each other before the Imps did," Talle says.

"Little positivity, there, dear, would go a long way," Hera replies.

"Either that, or we could take bets on which one survives."

"That could be a hard bet, knowing those two."

"Don't move!" comes a voice from their flanks.

_Okay. First we have to survive this._

~+~+~+~+~+

Jamelyn releases Sabine with a last touch of her cheek. "I am sorry, Jamelyn," Sabine says. "I know you hurt just as much as everybody else. I appreciate the care that you have for my _Ba'vodu."_

"I am sorry, too, Sabine. I know now what Ahsoka thought she was facing. Maybe it did transform what they had sworn to each other. The raw power of what she was facing."

Sabine nods, lost in thought. "I..." She stops. "Go on, Sabine. You can say anything," Jamelyn says.

"Ahsoka taught me so much, just in that short amount of time that I knew her." Her eyes tear again. She looks as if she is gathering her courage. "We had a moment, just after we met. We had a night, actually."

Sabine watches Jamelyn for her reaction. "I didn't know what Jame and she had when it happened," she whispers. Jamelyn takes her hand in hers. "After she was lost, I found out. I was horrified that I might have hurt either of them. Jame assured me that they weren't exclusive. Still.."

Jame brings Sabine's hand to her lips. "You should listen to him, love," she says. She smirks. "It is kind of hard to keep track of who was coming out of whose quarters, sometimes." They both laugh. Jamelyn grows more serious. "I think it was a little like a heart-bond in my mother's culture." There is no doubt as to who she is referring to. The 'most loving person in the universe,' as even Sabine had heard Ahsoka refer to her. "They took comfort with others when they needed it, in the darkness of their world. But they would always return to each other."

Her face crumples. "At least until she pushed him away, to face whatever it was that she felt was hers to face."

Sabine continues to listen. "I was there that night. I saw the agony on both of their faces. I held Ahsoka after Jame had stalked off." Jamelyn smiles. "I remember her exact words. The last words I heard from her. _Take care of him, little Queen."_

"Jamelyn, I want you to think about something. Maybe you don't believe it, but think about what all of that green means to your family on his armor. It means faith. I need you to have the same faith that Uncle Jame has. That they will be together again. Not in some afterlife, but in this world."

The Elector of Corellia, the last hope of her world, the nominal leader of the exiled Elder Family of a world now under the thumb of an Imperial Viceroy, is silent as she struggles with this idea. She finally nods slightly. "For my uncle. For Ahsoka. I will have faith," she whispers.

Sabine doesn't get the chance to reply as five humans walk onto the bridge from the wrecked corridor that had been their entry point.

She relaxes as she sees the Rebel uniforms. Or mixture of uniforms. "About time. Didn't know anyone was joining us."

Her eyebrows raise as she sees the lack of expression in their faces.

Jamelyn sees it first. She shoves Sabine out of the way.

A blaster bolt intersects with her body.

~+~+~+~+~+

Cassian Andor enters the Combat Information Center of the cruiser to a heated argument. He smiles slightly as he sees Jame Blackthorn squaring off with two powerful members of the Rebel high command.

"....I don't give a damn if you don't authorize me going. I will go and take my squadron with me."

"Captain Blackthorn," Draven says, "if you try to leave here, we will arrest you, good fighter or not. We are giving you a direct order to not go to Hypori."

"Well, I am telling you that you have fuck-all chance of stopping me." His green eyes flash with anger. "This little party is based on mutual agreement rather than organization. In spite of your delusions of grandeur, we are just a collection of cells."

He calms slightly. "Even your little assignment of me as a staff officer only occurred because I let you. Because I recognized that I did wrong when I hit that pompous ass. But I am telling you, right now, since it is only the three of us here, that I have presented actionable intelligence of a threat to the entire movement, that I am taking my squadron to Hypori."

Dodonna eyes him. "Tell me again what your intelligence says."

Blackthorn takes a deep breath; centers himself. "I don't have specifics. It is why I sent a small team. There is a suspected threat that involves Naboo."

Draven speaks up, his anger palpable. "I am the intelligence chief, here. I don't believe your little slicer's information. There is nothing to back it up. Hell, we don't even know if he is alive. Or even a real person."

He moves in front of Blackthorn. "For the last time, you will not go to Hypori."

Jame Blackthorn smiles. "Corellia is going to Hypori. The hope of my world, the legitimate Head of State and monarch is on that world. I am sworn to protect her by oaths much more ancient than the Republic or this rebellion. My squadron is made up of Corellians and a few pirates. We will be going."

"Garm Bel Iblis will order you not to go."

"Don't take orders from the Senator. Plus, I am not sure if he will try. He will probably go with me. For all of his faults, he is a loyal son of Corellia." His smile takes on a hard quality. "Besides. The Elector is his cousin, as well."

Draven and Dodonna ponder this. Dodonna looks at Draven and shakes his head. Draven nods and turns, exiting the room.

"Captain Blackthorn, as much as I am a believer in discipline and good order, I realize that we cannot risk losing Corellia." His eyes grow hard. "At least until we are organized and everyone is under discipline. At which point, I would put you up against the nearest wall and have you shot."

Jame's eyes flash, but he doesn't rise at that.

He turns to Andor. "Captain Andor. Please go with the Commodore to his squadron and assist him in whatever he needs."

Andor nods. Blackthorn comes to attention and salutes Dodonna. The old General returns the salute crisply. "Jame, this is your one defiance of me. No matter the regard that Mon and Bail have for you. No matter the cost of Corellia. No matter the losses you have suffered. Don't do it again." He softens. "I don't know if I am being easy on you because of what you can do, or the regard that Fulcrum-Prime had for you."

Jame nods. "I understand, Jan. Thank you."

Blackthorn turns to Andor. "Get that murder-droid of yours. Meet me at the U-Wing in fifteen minutes." He smiles. "Time to bring some hell."

~+~+~+~+~+~

Hera and Talle both turn towards the voice. Five Rebel commandos stand there, pointing weapons at them. Their faces are all equally expressionless. Hera immediately relaxes. "Stand down. I am Phoenix Leader. This is Dragon Leader."

None of the commandos lower their weapons, or even act as if they heard. Instead, they raise them up to their shoulders. Talle can see their fingers tighten on the triggers. She starts to ease her hand to her slung DC-17m.

_As little good it would do. At least I have the grenade launcher on it._

A high-pitched whine breaks the silent deadlock. All five 'rebels' drop without further sound as a solid slug pierces each at neck level.

The slug then drops to the ground.

Hera and Talle are transfixed by the smoking holes in the necks. They spin as they hear a noise behind them.

Their eyes widen as they see a tiny figure standing in front of them. A tiny figure dressed in filthy brown robes. Two glowing eyes stare out at them from the darkness under the hood.

A figure known on many worlds as a scavenger and usually regarded as vermin.

This one holds its right hand up. A smaller than normal metal and plastic wristband is pointed in their direction.

The two women look at one another, incredulously.

_A Jawa? With a Mandalorian vambrace?_


	5. Culmination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle is joined for their family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter. Plenty of action.

Hera and Talle stare at the sight before them. A tiny, filthy being, stands over the bodies of five apparent Rebel commandos.

Rebel commandos who were about five seconds from slaughtering them both by a large amount of blasterfire.

The Jawa continues to hold the weapon that had dispatched the five on them. 

A small version of a Mandalorian weapons vambrace. Apparently armed at least with a _beskar_ ballistic dart.

A dart that had killed the five with a neat hole in each neck.

Hera holds her hands out towards the creature. "Easy, now. We're all friends here."

The scavenger doesn't drop his arm with the weapon. "Don't think he speaks Basic, Hera. Either that or he doesn't like you."

"If you have any better ideas, now would be the time to let me know, dear," Hera whispers through clenched teeth.

The Jawa slowly lifts his left hand to his hood. Both women steel themselves for what might lie under the hood. They have heard the stories. 

Instead, the scavenger touches where a mouth would be on any other humanoid.

He drops his left hand. After a moment, he drops the right as well. Hera and Talle relax.

Sound starts to issue from the depths of the hood.

"Hey Driplet. Nice to see you. You've grown a bit," says a warm voice.

Hera sees her companion's eyes widen, the tears starting. She rushes towards the little being.

A hand sweeps the hood back, as well as the mask that covers the face.

A head full of shaggy, graying black hair is revealed by the removal of the hood. A pair of dark gray eyes, eyes marked by laughter peers at them both. Eyes that are also marked by care and pain.

"Uncle Phygus!" the young woman screams. Hera Syndulla is treated to the sight of the fearless warrior and pilot suddenly reduced to a small child again. Clinging tightly to the smaller man; her tears and sobs flowing freely.

She breaks apart. She looks at him. 

Hera watches, rapt. Talle remembers herself, and turns to Hera. "I'm sorry. Captain Hera Syndulla, this is Phygus Baldrick."

"Also known as Touchstone."

The small human smiles. "Pleased to meet you, Captain." She notices that Baldrick's eyes look her up and down. Undressing her with every glance, or so it seems.

"Ahh, yet another gorgeous friend of Jame Blackthorn." He smirks. "Wonder if I will have a better shot at getting into your pants?"

~+~+~+~+~+

Sabine Wren struggles to bring the blade around against the resistance of the Rebel soldier. _Or whatever the hell he is,_ she thinks. She screams as his grip on her arm slips just enough for her to plunge the blade into his left eye.

He gives no sound as he dies.

She whirls around and looks at the other five bodies lying on the ground.

Only four of which are alive. 

The fifth looks at her through one gray eye. The other is swollen shut from where she had hit one of the commandos in the fist with it.

After she had disarmed him with a blaster bolt. Sabine walks over and crouches by her. Jamelyn's breathing is ragged from the blaster bolt to the chest. Her Mando iron had held, but Sabine is sure that several bones are broken in her chest.

The bubbling froth at her lips tells Sabine that a lung is punctured as well. She pulls Jamelyn to a sitting position. "You sure are one tough queen, girl," she says.

Jamelyn had dispatched one of their attackers with her blaster as she had fallen in the first shot. Without missing a beat, she had switched her carbine to her left and and shot another one.

As easy as with her dominant hand.

Sabine had dropped one with her blaster but a second one had grappled with her. Sabine winces as she gingerly touches her jaw where he had struck her. 

Just before she had stabbed him with his own knife.

The other one had gone flying out of the front viewport, as the Elector of Corellia had charged him with the last of her stamina.

Jamelyn doesn't respond, as her eyes droop. "Come on, love. Can't sleep now. Got to catch a ride before any more of these assholes show up," Sabine says. "The next ones probably won't be as helpful and try to prove they can beat two girls."

Jamelyn smiles. "Just resting my eyes, 'bine," she says. She coughs; the froth flows.

Sabine pulls her bucket on. "Chopper," she says into the pickup. "We need an urgent medevac! Come in, Chopper!"

There is only static.

~+~+~+~+~+

A hunter sits in the cockpit of a battered warship. A ship that had carried him through two wars now. His eyes are closed, but he is hyperaware of everything that goes on. He smiles as warmth surges through his body as his senior captain comes close to his chair. "Never can sneak up on you, King," Dani says quietly. 

"Nope. Not as long as something makes you broadcast a bit." he says. "You know what that something is, Jame," she whispers. "Didn't know it could reach across hyperspace," he says with a grin. She slaps the back of his head. "You know she isn't the only thing." she says with a gentle smile. She sobers.

"You okay, Dani?" he asks gently. 

"I'll be better when the daughter of my heart is standing next to me blushing at our flirting," she replies. 

"I know. Me too." 

She grins. "Can't believe you had to threaten to rebel against the rebellion."

"Who would start a rumor like that?"

"It's all over the squadron, Commodore." 

"Andor should keep his mouth shut," Jame says. She places her fingers over his lips. "He didn't say anything. I did. I know them and I know you."

He looks down. "It was never in any doubt, but it reinforced it for these heartbreakers. They will follow you anywhere," she says.

"Don't know why," he grumbles. Dani can see his eyes glistening. She kisses the gray at his temple. "It is because we love you, Commodore," she says quietly.

"You love a crazy man. Who thinks that he talks to ghosts."

"Yeah, well. You know what we say on Corellia."

"Yep. We don't hide crazy in the attic on Corellia. We parade it around on the front porch. We're proud of it."

Their shared laughter, a rare sound in the last two months, brings smiles to the faces of the rest of the bridge crew. Credits change hands at the tactical table.

She slaps his head, a little less gently. "Hey! That is striking a superior officer."

She looks around. "Anybody see anything?" she says challengingly. "Nope," someone says.

"Besides. They know when their superior officer is being a dumbass." This is said only for his ears. He closes his eyes at the familiarity of that title.

"We get them back, Commodore, if we can trust the squadron with Boge or Thyla, or somebody, I think that you, me, and the other Commander, maybe the squadron mess officer," He smiles at that, "should go to Takodana for a week or two."

"Yeah? And what would we do there?"

"If you need a diagram..."

He shakes his head. "It is not time yet, Dani," he whispers. "Bullshit. You keep telling us she is alive. What do you think she would say if you were basically just lying down and dying?"

He holds up his hands. "I know, Daaineran. But I just don't think this is the time for any of us to go traipsing off. Unless all of us do."

Dani looks thoughtful. "You may be onto something there, King."

His eyes narrow. "Yes, Commander?" he says. "What if we all disappeared for a while?" the Zeltron asks.

He is thoughtful. "I am starting to like this a bit. We've been the most active cell in the Rebellion except maybe the Ghosts and Phoenixes. Mostly the Ghosts. They now have ground under their feet."

A beeping noise starts them both. Dani sighs. "Time to bake the pastry." She turns to her duties as they prepare.

He closes his eyes. _Can I go back there, after so much time spent with her?_

He feels another slap at the back of his head. His eyes snap open, wondering if Dani wanted to push it. There is no one there. 

A bright orange and blue light opens behind his eyes. _Snap out of it, Bait. Some of my best memories were made there with you. One day I am going to be there with you again._

_Enjoy our family. In whatever way you need to; to stay in the light._

In the midst of preparing for battle, Daaineran Faygan turns to her Commodore. She sees the slight smile on his lips. She nods and smiles herself.

~+~+~+~+~+

"So what the hell are we doing here, little man?" Hera asks with exasperation. Talle smiles. _That must be a record of meeting him for a female. Only two minutes for him to piss her off.  
_

"Well, my beautiful pilot, it is simple. Heard some chatter on some of the frequencies I have been monitoring. On some of the research projects that our friends in the ISB have been working on. I found something called Operation Lakefall."

"Okay. Can see where that might have something to do with Naboo," Hera says. "The Lakefall Festival is coming up in a week or so."

Both Talle and Baldrick look at her incredulously. "What?"

"Nothing," Phygus says. "Continue. We need to get in contact with the kids," Hera says.

He takes a sip of water. "Whoever started the file did some serious research on Naboo. Particularly ritual requirements of the Queen. Appearances and what-not."

"Kyrlantha is considered by many to be an Imperial puppet." Hera says. "Remember what Nola said about that, Captain," Talle says quietly.

"Even if she was, she is somewhat respected by her people. If anything was to happen to her, particularly at the hands of people dressed like this...," Phygus says as he kicks a corpse.

He points to the corpse. "You notice anything strange about these chumps?" 

"Besides the fact that they are dead and tried to end us?" Talle says. "Yes. Besides that," the slicer says. "They are all exactly the same height."

Hera looks at him. "Are they clones?" she says with an edge. Phygus pulls out a datapad. He shows it to her. "No. This is data I, uh, acquired earlier today," he says.

Hera raises a tattooed eyebrow. "Don't ask," Talle says. They look at the pad. A holo of another dead man fills the screen. Aurabesh data scrolls. "I checked the DNA. They are not clones. The genetic material was all idiosyncratic, but enhanced. Even the height determinants."

He looks at them. "They are Deathtroopers. Those elite versions of troopers that guard high ranking dignitaries. There have always been rumors that they received genetic enhancements."

"The face is that of a Rebel operative named Dengway, who was presumed dead a few months back." Baldrick's face grows dark. "The facial area actually contains his genetic material."

"To what end? What does this have to do with Naboo?"

"I think that I have a theory. We have to destroy all of these things."

"Why?"

"Because I think that they intend to frame the Rebellion for assassinations."

Hera and Talle are silent. "That is a big reach, Uncle Phygus," the younger woman says.

"I know. But I have been living in these computer files for three years, sweetie," he says, his eyes distant. "Ever since..."

Hera can tell that there is a great deal more to tell, but realizes that there is no time.

Her comm beeps. Excited binary breaks through. "Calm down Chop! What is it?" Hera says.

_+Company.+_

~+~+~+~+~+

Noar Zan Arbor looks up at the sound of a great rumble. She smiles. An _Arquitens_ light cruiser powers into the atmosphere, along with the _Gozanti_ troop transport.

She turns and looks at her creations. All dressed in civilian clothes. There are ten of them. Their weapons, however, are not civilian.

The weapons are a mix of Imperial and Rebel. Just like any Rebel commando unit.

"We will be leaving soon for your objective," she says. "But first, we have a small problem that we have to take care of." 

"Your brothers in those ships will take care of it for us. We will concentrate on our objective."

They look up at the sound of the light cruiser's turbolasers opening on the area near where the other infiltration unit was last heard from.

She smiles. She thinks back over a decade ago. After the first Deathtrooper project. Of killing a Kaminoan scientist.

Of finding a file in his belongings. A file that had complete instructions to create one thing.

A bio-electronic device. A complex device that had changed the galaxy with one simple command.

A command of letters and two numbers. Letters forming one word. One word and two numbers.

A command that had slaughtered an entire people and had made the New Order possible.

Noar had spent the decade perfecting the chip to focus it on one target.

Any target that she or her masters wished.

Many of her test subjects had died. Until these two squads had beat the odds. Twenty infiltration units. Now cut in half by this small group of rebels.

It was time. Naboo was calling. 

The tiny Rebellion would die a quick death under the weight of public opinion when it did.

~+~+~+~+~+~

"We got incoming!" Hera yells. Turbolaser explosions dot the ground near where they stand. "Come on! Get to the _Phantom,_ Phygus!"

"We need one of the bodies, Captain. We need to get it back to the Rebellion. Back to Tal." She stops. In the heat of the chaos, he has used a name that she had only heard a few times. The first time a month ago. 

A name that had died in Order 66. But was reborn at least twice. She nods. "Talle, get up there. See what you can do to distract them. The baby destroyer only has a few fighters." The young woman nods.

She grabs one of the bodies and starts to drag it to the _Phantom._ "Chop. Need you down here. Get to the wreckage and see if you can pull Sabine and Jamelyn out."

"Jamelyn's here?" Baldrick exclaims. "Yeah. She and another young woman went to find the source of your signal," the pilot says. She grins. "Some more of Jame's kinfolk. From the Mando side."

"If she is anything like what I heard about his wife, there may be a great deal of chaos," he says.

"Yep. Her niece. Lots of explosions and art. Try not to hit on her. She might leave a mark, little man."

"Nope. She's family," he says.

Her comm sounds. _+More company, Captain,+_ Chopper says.

_Great._

She and Phygus reach the shuttle and drag the body in, just as Talle's A-wing launches two torpedoes at the armed freighter.

~+~+~+~+~+

The young Imperial captain sees the torpedoes from the rebel fighter detonate on the _Gozanti's_ starboard hull. The transport struggles to stay aloft, as its puny armament tracks the fast fighter.

"Signal to the transport, Comms," he says. "Retire to the cover of my shields."

The communications officer listens to the reply. "Captain, Dr. Zan Arbor has countermanded that. She is instructing the transport to come down and pick up her 'project' for deployment." The contempt can be heard in the officer's voice.

It is shared by the captain. Lieutenant Commander Jayston Fleir curses the day he was assigned as that woman's personal lab facility.

Half of his crew gone for three years, replaced with her scientists.

He smirks. _At least she had apparently found him attractive. Or at least enough to keep him in her bed._

_The psychopathic gleam in her eyes had not been something he had enjoyed waking up to._

"Sir! Incoming signals. Non-Imperial. Coming in at mark fifteen point three!"

The ship shudders as turbolasers strike her shields. An old _Consular_ -class and an old CR-90 open on his ship. He looks at the two vessels attacking, along with the smaller pests of A-wing fighters.

"Shields down twenty-five percent!"

~+~+~+~+~+

Jame Blackthorn watches as the _Opportunity_ and the _Bucket_ open fire on the Imperial ships.

He turns to the communications console. "See if you can raise the _Ghost,"_ he says.

"Sir, it's Dragon Leader." 

"Hey, Droplet. How's it going?"

"Uncle, we can't raise Spectre 5 or the Elector." 

Jame comes out of his chair. "Where were they last heard from?" 

"On the Republic ship. Chopper thought he heard a call, but he couldn't lock on it or raise them."

Jame looks at Andor. He nods and turns and leaves. "Uncle, we found someone. Someone who has been missing for a while." 

Jame's breath catches in his throat. He looks at Dani. "Where is this someone, Dragon Leader?"

"With Phoenix Leader. They are trying to make it to the _Ghost._

"We need to make sure of all the Imperials, Commodore. There is something bad down here."

Jame nods. "There always is. Join your squadron, Leader. Take over." He switches to the command net. "All ships, this is Actual. We need to sanitize all Imperials. Fighters will engage all targets on the ground. The big ships will take care of the cruiser and the transport. With the exception of the Elector and one of our Ghosts, there are no friendlies on the ground. I repeat there are no friendlies on the ground. Weapons are free."

"This is Dragon Leader. Belay that. Our two lost children have just rappelled to the ground on the starboard side of the wreckage."

"This is Retrieval. On it," comes Andor's accented voice.

"We'll cover you, Retrieval," Talle says. "Be advised. The Hope appears to be WIA."

Jame's blood runs cold. _Wounded in Action._

He stands and looks down at Dani in the pilot's chair. She nods. He holds onto the back of her chair as the ship begins to dive.

He looks to the port side as a movement catches his eye. A small diamond-shaped freighter joins on his beam. "Nice that you could join us, Phoenix Leader," he says. A warm voice replies. "Nice to be able to join, Tempest. I have someone here who wants to say hello."

"Hey, little brother. What kept you?"

"Stopped for breakfast, big brother," he says, emotion evident on his face and in his voice.

Evident in both voices. "See you soon, Tal."

He stops and gathers himself. " _Ghost_ and _Opportunity._ Form on the leader and let's take the cruiser."

~+~+~+~+~+

Noar Zan Arbor watches as the heavier rebels swoop to her cruiser. She curses as she sees multiple hits on the vessel. She recognizes the old _Consular._ Her mechanical leg starts to twinge in anticipation.

She turns to the ten expectant, borrowed faces. "Change of plans. Go after those two on the ground. Bring me various body parts."

She thinks of her decision to start this work on Hypori. A symbolic start to the cementing of the New Order. Where a serious blow was dealt to the existence of the Old Order and their wizards.

_Poetic._

~+~+~+~+~+

The captain of the light cruiser sees the damage reports flash across his repeater. He knows that his ship will not withstand the blows being dealt by the two corvettes and freighter. Especially with half of his crew replaced by puling scientists. He notices one of the scientists watching the action; his calm eyes surveying the fight.

The 'scientist' appears to know what is going on in each aspect. _He also appears to be in much more fighting shape than the others._

Fleir realizes that this is not one of the scientists. It is one of the test subjects. 

He walks over to the man. "What is your mission? Do you have orders?" the naval officer asks. "Yes, Commander," comes an eerie voice. One that does not seem to fit the face. "I need to get to Naboo."

Fleir comes to a decision. "I think that Dr. Zan Arbor and the others are someone else's problem." He jerks his head below. "Get below and prepare. I am going to get you to some public transportation hub."

"Yes, Commander." The _whatever the hell he is_ turns and leaves the bridge. "Get us out of here. Tell the _Gozanti_ to cover our retirement. Even with their own existence." he says to the XO. "And get me Vice-Admiral Sloane."

~+~+~+~+~+

Sabine Wren tries to calm her breathing after the rapid descent. A rapid descent accomplished while holding the dead weight of a useless Royal. She smiles, despite her fatigue. _Not quite useless._

She winces as she turns. She can feel her right ankle swelling in its boot, where she came down awkwardly. She shakes the pain away. A low moan comes from the young woman at her feet. Sabine had managed to give her a large dose of sedative, so that her pain was minimal, but it wasn't exactly helping their situation. Even injured, with blood coming up at her lips, the Elector was damned good in a firefight. _Even without the Mandalorian side._

She starts at a noise. A blaster bolt strikes the hull of the wreckage near her head. She curses and brings up Jamelyn's carbine. 

She is soon busy firing on her mysterious attackers.

~+~+~+~+~+

Hera Syndulla crinkles her nose at her companion. "Hells' bells, Baldrick. You kriffing stink. Why don't you go back and get a shower?" she finally exclaims. "I hadn't noticed. We seem to be in the middle of a battle, my dear, if you haven't noticed," he says with a smile.

"Yeah, I have. Seeing how I seem to be the only one, well, _doing a goddamned thing about it."_

He seems not to notice her irritation. "I am just holding out until you might be less busy, so that perhaps you might consent to wash my back," he says hopefully.

"In your dreams, little man." He smiles at the expected response. His eyes grow sad at the thought of one of those who regularly said that to him.

He shakes his head. Hera sees the look in his eyes, having seen it in many pairs of eyes. _He knows._ "Do you feel like helping out, Phygus?" she says gently. He starts, but quickly regains his composure. "What can I do, Captain?"

"You could get in the upper turret. I can control the nose guns and Chop has the rear guns on the _Phantom,_ but I also need him in case we have to jump in a hurry."

He nods and climbs down from is seat. She can't resist. "Sorry we don't have a booster seat."

His eyerolls is palpable. "About that shower...."

"Previous answer still stands. Guess you'll have to fly solo."

As he leaves, Chopper warbles a riposte. _+With his slicing skills, he is probably much more useful than the ponytail.+_

"You keep your opinions to yourself, turd." She grins maliciously. "Unless you'd like to scrub his back."

The astromech's _wah-waaah_ is more definitive than usual.

~+~+~+~+~+

Sabine slumps her head on the rock that she has taken cover behind. She looks at Jamelyn, despairing. _Sorry, J,_ she thinks. _I couldn't do any better._

She sees the attackers move in that much closer. She counts ten, all in civilian clothes but trained.

Her eyes widen as she hears a loud noise at the attackers' position. 

The sound of blasterfire directed somewhere other than at them.

An attacker's body goes flying over the rock wall that had concealed them. The body strikes the far wall with a sickening splat.

Screams are heard from the position.

Sabine, who has seen many horrifying things in her short life and has never been particularly bothered by them, feels bile rise in her throat as she next sees body parts flying over the wall.

A head bounces and rolls towards her feet.

Her eyes are torn from the staring eyes of the head as a very loud thud sounds near her.

She brings up her blaster as she sees the gargantuan black droid standing in front of her, its photoreceptors eyeing her curiously. 

She makes a sound as she sees the Imperial cog on the chassis. The droid cocks his head. She starts as she sees the droid lift its foot.

And place it firmly on the chest of the body stuck on a long data probe that has penetrated the chest. With a squelch it falls, as the probe retracts.

"Jumpy, aren't you?" the droid says in an approximation of a cultured voice. "My captain says I am supposed to get you out of here. Well, come on. I would much rather leave you here."

Without another word, the strange droid bends down and picks Jamelyn up with surprising gentleness. The droid does an approximation of a head jerk. Sabine picks slings Jamelyn's carbine and grabs hold to his back. Her stomach is left behind as the droid springs.

Sabine tries not to think about Jamelyn waking up to the bloodstained horror that is carrying them.

~+~+~+~+~+

Noar clenches her teeth against the scream building as she sees the last remaining units torn apart by the Imperial tactical droid. Her eyes fill with unfamiliar tears as she thinks of the magnitude of her failure.

Of the price that Orson Krennic will demand for the shunting of resources away from his precious project.

One that will probably not work.

She slumps as she contemplates her death. "Doctor," the gunner exclaims. "Look!"

Noar sees the droid jump up with its twin burden. A rebel assault ship flares in to pick them up. "Gunner! Target that ship and that outcropping. Maximum firepower."

She smiles as she hears the servos of the AT-DP's gun-bubble activate.

The smile is frozen on her face as another whine comes into her hearing. She turns just in time as two wedge-shapes unleash dots of light.

There is a flash. The last thing she sees is the droid jumping into the open door of the U-Wing.

 _I am sorry, Mother,_ she thinks to a disappointed pair of eyes. _I tried to complete your legacy._

~+~+~+~+~+

Blackthorn watches as the cruiser turns away from them, its cannons swiveling aft. "Our shields are decreasing, Commodore. _Opportunity_ reports the same.

He nods in acknowledgement. "Captain Andor reports our lost shaks are on board," Boge M'Faru, the XO says. His eyes are troubled. "What, XO?" "He reports that Jamelyn is seriously, but not critically injured. Dr. Heg will meet them on _Opportunity,_ since they have the better medical facilities."

He closes his eyes. Dani stands. "I need to go, Jame. Permission to be relieved?" she asks.

"Dani, as much as I would like for you to go, I need you here." She makes as to argue, but turns and sits without a word. He stands and reaches over. He kisses her on her ear. "You taught her well, love. She is strong. Just a little bit more." She reaches up and kisses him on his lips. "I ain't the only one that taught her well, Covenant," she whispers, using his ancient title.

No one on the bridge seems to find anything odd about their interactions in the middle of a battle.

"Captain," exclaims a crewman. "The transport is moving towards us at a high rate of speed."

Boge turns from the sensor package. "Detecting energy buildup in weapons and engines."

"They've locked onto us with a tractor beam," Dani says at a shudder of the old ship.

"Signal the other ships to move away from us. All ships intensify fire on that transport. My bet is they have a lot of energy and combustibles," Blackthorn says, gritting his teeth. He stands again. His crew can feel his feet locking to the deck.

"Sound 'Collision," he continues. The wailing, up-and-down siren screams. "Full reverse, Dani." He looks at M'Faru. "Stand by to abandon ship."

He looks at Blackthorn. "Only if you are including yourself in that, butt-head."

"That's Commodore Butt-head to you, Lieutenant. Do as I say."

They see their fire having an effect, but not fast enough. "They must've transferred all power to the shields and engines and set everything else to overload," M'Faru says.

Blackthorn notices that the other ships have not increased the distances. He activates the command net. "Goddammit, Rhayme. Don't disobey me. Get the hell out. You too, Fenn," he yells.

"Pretty sure neither one of us can hear you, nephew," comes a deep, slow voice. "I know Captain Rhayme's ears are beautiful, but I am quite sure she has as selective of a sense of hearing as I do."

"You are so full of shit, Fenn Shysa," comes the Pantoran accent. Blackthorn rolls his eyes. "Doesn't anyone listen to me?"

Any reply is broken off by the cry of the co-pilot. "Look!" They follow his finger. 

A small diamond-shaped freighter, with six smaller ships nesting like nuna-chicks, swings between the Bucket and the transport. There is another jolt as the tractor beam is interrupted by the cluster of ships. Dani looks at him. "Those are some damned good pilots."

"The best, Dani."

"Commodore, the enemy ship has changed course."

Dani and Blackthorn look at one another and smile. "Kind of a fair slicer, too," he says. "Yeah," Dani agrees. "If you can keep his hands off of your ass."

"Sir, the light cruiser has jumped," the navigator says. "I guess the diversion worked," Jame says dryly. 

"Only a spotty life form or two on the planet, Jame," Lassa says. "Okay. Let's get out of here. Signal the squadron. _Hyperspace jump using route we came in on to Aura._ " He smiles." Have the fighters dock where they can."

"Commodore, large signals displacing hyperspace," Boge M'Faru says. "How many?"

"At least three distortions," comes the reply. 

"Belay that last. Signal the squadron - _General retreat. Use best routes other than last. Rendezvous at Besh._ "

As his ships jump, he wonders what the hell they were doing there in the first place.

~+~+~+~+~+

Jame Blackthorn, the Covenant of Corellia, stands next to a mother and her heart-bond. They watch a daughter floating in bacta; her first ever time. Two other young women stand next to them, their faces solemn, but not without the humor that every member of the squadron seems to possess. He smiles as he notices them with their arms about their shoulders.

Another young woman, slightly older than the other two and the young woman in the tank; the best pilot in the fleet, stands next to Dani and Lassa. Without a word, the two women pull her into their embrace. Her lekku twitch with contentment.

The door opens. A very small being, probably the person who has known Jame Blackthorn and Taliesin Croft, and Bryne Covenant the longest, walks in.

A being who has been lost, but now is reunited with his family. Jame frees himself from Dani. He walks over to Baldrick.

His big brother. Touchstone is smiling, but his eyes are full of pain. Jame crouches down. They fall into each other's arms.

The others alternate their attention between Jamelyn and the two brothers. The two men break apart. "I heard about Ahsoka," Phygus whispers, his eyes filled with tears. "I am so sorry, Tal," he finishes. He looks back up. "I hear that you think she is still with you; that you can communicate with her." He smiles. "That she is alive."

Jame matches his smile. "How crazy is that?" he asks. "Not so crazy, little brother. A Force that could have me as a sensitive, has a definite sense of humor." A gleam comes into his eyes. "I have a message for her. Tell her that she still owes me a look at her boobs."

Jame snorts. A musical laugh is heard in his head. _Tell him I am showing them to him now.  
_

Their laughter joins the others as they turn and watch the beautiful young woman floating. Floating and healing, peacefully.

~+~+~+~+~+

On a world without life, a young woman crawls away from wreckage. Wreckage that she has left a part of her body in. A part of her body for many years, now.

Noar Zan Arbor crawls away from the destroyed walker. The sun beats down upon her mercilessly.

She drags the remains of the artificial leg attached to her left thigh along with her. A shadow falls across her. She looks up as the tall woman comes into full view in her blurry vision.

A tall woman in her late thirties, clad in a gray uniform, looks down at her. A slow smile plays over her dark features.

"Hello, Doctor. Glad to see that pure evil can survive anything. Just like a cockroach," Vice Admiral Rae Sloane says. "We'll see about remedying that when we get back to our base. I would just leave you here, but you are a serving officer of the Imperial Navy. There are forms to follow."

Noar's voice is little more than a croak. "I..."

"Director Krennic," Rae's mouth twists in distaste, "sends his greetings. He says that he washes his hands of you, since you seem to want to disobey his orders and waste Imperial resources on outdated experiments."

She motions to two subordinates. They reach down and pick her up, unceremoniously dumping her on a stretcher-droid. "My leg," she says.

Sloane's eyes grow hard. "Don't worry, dear. You won't need it. The post that we are going to tie you to and open your chest up has an attachment for a chair, just for this sort of eventuality."

Sloane puts her hands on her hips. "The squad who will end you is made up of fleet troopers - comrades of those Imperial naval personnel you needlessly wasted."

She pats her holstered blaster. "As their commanding officer, I will be the one who puts the final bolt in your head."

"Of course, I may not get the chance. I am told that Lord Vader has taken an interest in the outcome of your case. Something about family ties."

Noar Zan Arbor lays back. She smiles as she contemplates her triumph, even in death.


	6. Huntresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two families make sense of each other and of their experiences. Two huntresses help them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who have read.

Daaineran Faygan wakes as she hears a noise from the young woman that she holds in her arms. A low murmured "No!" comes from her lips.

Dani shifts her arm slightly under the girl's head. She brushes the hair away from her daughter's forehead as the Elector tries to find a more comfortable position in the narrow medcenter bed.

The older woman's eyes tear at the choices of this young woman. They are choices; but not ones with easy alternatives.

The hope of her world, just because of her birth. Her birth and a choice offered so that another could continue his fight. That he could continue his fight at the side of his huntress.

Her face crumples. A huntress now believed by most to be dead. Leaving him alone with his grief and responsibility to this young woman and the others in this small family. _Family for lack of a better word._

She does not begrudge him the choice. The fact of the matter is that he was more suited to be the Protector than the Imperator in this great game. It was his birthright, just as much as the mystical energy field that only intermittently works.

As she thinks of her family, she realizes that a powerful gaze watches her. A dark-eyed gaze in the face of a growing warrior. She smiles at Sabine. "Hey, little Wren."

She smiles gently at the brief bit of pain in the dark eyes. A brief catch-up in a room above a bar a year or so back with Fulcrum had relayed that nickname. A catch-up with very little actual conversation.

Dani smiles sadly. The next to last time that she had spoken with her sister of the heart. The last time was for about ten minutes in another bar with a large, impatient Lasat rolling his eyes.

"Hey, Commander," the young Mando replies. Dani rolls her eyes. "Please call me, Dani, 'bine, at least here," she says gently.

Sabine nods. "She seems to be doing well," gesturing at Jamelyn. 

"Yeah. She has good genes."

"Even though she doesn't have any of the Wren genes."

"I was referring to Count Dooku's," Dani says with a smirk. Their laughter is touched with a tinge of shock on Sabine's part. She realizes that Dani is serious. "Her birth mother, a beautiful and good woman was a grand-niece." _One that Dooku had tried his damndest to kill and may have eventually succeeded._

Sabine is quiet for a moment, brings her gaze back to Jamelyn. "She is so good, herself. I can tell that she is full of love and fierceness."

"Those are probably Blackthorn traits, love," Dani says wistfully. "Along with snark, stubbornness, and a propensity for mayhem." She grins. "Not to mention a tiny bit of charm and a flirting gene larger than a planet."

"You're a Blackthorn, aren't you?" Sabine says with a smirk.

"Yep. My father's curse." They both laugh. Sabine's expression takes on a thoughtful look. "So, is she, uhh, seeing, uhh, seeing anyone?"

 _Thought so._ "Not really. She and Talle grew up together and in the example of true Zeltron fashion, probably fooled around quite a bit."

Her eyes laugh before her beautiful features join the expression. "Of course, from what I hear, you and one of my commandos spent a few hours on Spider Beach."

Sabine blushes at the mention of an expanse of sand near the perimeter on Atollon where the spider-like creatures watch warily through the distortion fields. Where numerous couples spent a great deal of time off-duty, trying to ignore each other as they engaged in various pursuits.

"We, ah, just talked. He seems to like _netra'gel."_

"Can't imagine where a Togruta got that from. Talking, huh?" The older woman grins mischievously. "I am sure that there were tongues involved."

"No, really. We just talked about weapons." She stops as she realizes she is digging a deeper hole for herself. With a Blackthorn. "He is a good kisser," she admits, her eyes not meeting the Zeltron's. 

"Figured." Her look takes on a wistful quality. "He does have nice eyes." Sabine's own eyes grow wide. "What?" Dani says, "I am old, not dead. If he wasn't my unofficial nephew, I would teach him a few things. Although, as a Zeltron...." She shakes her head.

She looks Sabine directly in the eye. "Just like I could probably teach a smartassed little Mando a few things, as well."

Sabine returns the challenging look."Anytime you feel like having a class, Commander. Might be able to challenge the test."

They both look away. Especially after a snort comes from the young woman in the medbed. "If you two would like to use the bed, I can go somewhere else."

Both women look away. "How long were you awake?" Sabine asks.

"Long enough to hear my mother give you permission to try to get into my pants," Jamelyn says archly.

"Oh."

"Of course, you might want to ask me, first." 

Jamelyn lets both of the women off of the hook after a moment. "Don't worry. The audition isn't too hard. If you can take off that damned armor long enough, you can crawl in on this side. That chair looks uncomfortable."

Dani starts to swing off of the bed. "No, _Abeeyeh,"_ she says. "Stay. It makes me feel safe with my mother and my new sister of my heart here."

Both mentioned women tear at her words. Within minutes, the three of them lie asleep in the narrow bed.

In the warmth and safety of friends and family.

None of them hear the door open and close. A small being sidles up to the bed and looks at them. Particularly at the Zeltron. He moves his fingers through her hair, his expression sad. 

Sad because of the news that he has found of another lost to his family. The thought of having to tell this woman that he has narrowed the location of her father down to two places.

Neither of them places that guarantee the survival of a man in his late sixties.

Even one such as the Dragon of Corellia.

He shakes his head. _That news can wait a rotation or two._

Phygus Baldrick pulls a blanket over the sleeping women. He turns and silently exits.

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola Vorserrie looks up from her datapad as the door to the lounge on the _Ghost_ opens. She smiles. "Hey, No-no," says Baldrick. "You are as beautiful as ever."

Her smile turns to a smirk. "Let me guess. You struck out with Hera." He rolls his eyes. "Last I saw her, she and the squadron navigator were deep in a discussion of either piloting skills and hyperspace routes or sharing Twi'lek recipes."

Nola smile. "Yeah, Thyla doesn't get to talk to anyone of her people very much. Especially another skilled pilot. Of course they will probably be coming up with some challenge to decide who is the better pilot."

"Don't know," the tiny slicer says, "But it looked like they would either be doing that or going off somewhere and comparing lekku markings."

Surprisingly, Nola laughs and motions to the couch. "If you can keep your hands to yourself, squirt, and keep the suggestive comments to a minimum, you can sit next to me and share some of this brandy."

"I can do that, Stretch," he says as he hops up. She picks up her caf cup and pours a slug. She hands it to him and takes her own slug from the bottle.

"So where is Jame?" he asks. She laughs. "If all is going to plan, he is sitting in a tub with a certain pirate and possibly a ship's cook/second best big-ship pilot in the squadron over on _Opportunity."_

"Let me guess. They are discussing whether or not Tarre Vizla's philosophy of Mando and Jedi cultural appropriation still stands."

"Either that or he is still trying to figure out a fake personnel issue that Lassa used to get him over there to relax." She rolls her eyes. "Or they are doing what Dani intended."

"How are you doing, Nola?" Phygus. Her expression grows set. "I'm fine, Baldrick. No, I don't want to talk about Ahsoka. Next question."

He can see the rawness of the pain in her dark eyes, even though he knew she had been expecting the news every day for over ten years. He nestles closer and puts his hand on her arm. Her expression softens as she runs her fingers lightly through his hair. "I am glad that you are alive, little man. I never could imagine a universe without you in it." She reaches down and kisses him.

He is at a loss for words for a moment. Something he never is. Instead of snark, he replies with actual work. "Nola, do you think we have fixed the Naboo issue? You think we got them all?"

She takes another swig; her expression thoughtful. "I don't know. I sent a message to my contacts, outlining the threat. I hope that they will be vigilant. The Queen is aware of who is actually behind it. I get the idea she is going to try to work on the Senate to stifle it."

"Good luck with that," he says. She nods. They setting into silence, each lost in their thoughts. Thoughts of those not there. Of trying to bring them back, even though it may be impossible.

~+~+~+~+~+

Boge M'Faru brings his bulk through the door of the lounge. A young pilot and her equally large father follows him, anticipating the cups of caf after termination of a seemingly endless morning watch. They all stop short at the scene before them. 

A tall Naboo sits with a very tiny slicer leaning against her arm. Both sound asleep. An empty bottle lies on the deck at their feet. Light snoring is heard from both.

The man once known as a number, but now bears the name of Mandalorian Jedi, given to him by a long-ago mentor, smiles. He turns and jerks his head to the hatch. Talle looks at her father and nods.

They turn and leave.

~+~+~+~+~+

_The huntress watches the door of the filthy cantina, one of a thousand that she had spent most of the last fifteen years or so of her life in. Her hands rest under her hooded robe as she watches from her vantage point in the back of the fine drinking establishment._

 _Her heart leaps with a slight tickle at the back of her neck. A tickle that is accompanied by a particular sequence of lights in her mind. She smiles and turns to the figure who has walked in from the back._

_"Took you long enough, Bait," she says. The figure shifts the hood that he wears a tiny fraction, showing a familiar crooked grin and a beloved pair of warm green eyes. He slides into the booth next to her. They both look around and see that everyone else is concentrating on their own illicit activities. They bring their faces close and meld their lips together._

_The pair try their best to make up for the last three months that they had been apart. When they break apart, their foreheads rest against one another; their skin alternately warming or cooling the other._

_"I missed you, Tempest," the huntress whispers. "Me too, Fulcrum." His gaze grows rueful. "How long do we have?" he asks._

_"Not long enough for me to do what I want and take you inside of me," she whispers. He kisses her again. She feels his smile against her lips. "I am not sure that anyone would notice if you did in this place," he says. He stifles the yelp when she bites his lip. Gently._

_"I would suggest something else, Bait, but I think that my days of blowing you in back alleys might be over."_

_"Remind me again when those days actually took place?" he says, dodging her elbow and moving his hand easily under her robe._

_"Oh, I seem to remember Kuat. Nice little restaurant that we had a meet." He takes up the story. "Yeah, I remember you taking me out back when the contact didn't show."_

_She smiles. "I remember all of a sudden having my back against the wall and my legs around your back." Her breathing comes a little faster. "I remember you didn't seem to object too much when I was on my knees," he says._

_He looks at her and places his hand on a wing marking on her cheek. "I remember, as I do every day of my life, your taste." She can see his eyes tearing. "Most of all, I remember how you make me feel alive."_

_They are both silent as the minutes tick by. Minutes that count down until they have to run to the opposite sides of the universe again._

_She shakes her head. She realizes that he has slipped a data chip in between her breasts, under the armor plate._

_Next to a tooth that hangs around her neck. She Smirks. "Very smooth, Padawan. I am sure that trick worked pretty well with impressing certain other Padawans in the Temple." They both think on their dead from before the Cataclysm._

_"Tell me again, why we can't be in the same sector?" he asks, his eyes downcast._

_"You know why, Jame," she whispers. "You know what happened on Yondu. We nearly all got wiped out. We both agreed that we had to go back to the way it was, with us separated."_

_"I know," he whispers. "I know, too, what it means," she continues. "That year or so on Opportunity, or together on the Draq'stone was the best one I had. But it was not meant to be."_

_"I am not so sure, Fulcrum. I am your Covenant; your Protector; as well as my world's and my Elector's. I swore that oath."_

_"I am yours as well, Tempest. I swore an oath of my world to you and with you."_

_She checks her comm. "I have to go. I have an issue building with the Lothal cell. I have a feeling they are about to do something reckless to rescue one of their own." She doesn't mention what that 'one of their own' shares with the two of them._

_"Need help?" he says hopefully._

_She shakes her head. Without a word he brings his lips to hers. They breathe each other in for another few minutes._

_He is the first to get up and leave. After a moment, she follows. As she boards her ship; her comm beeps._

_On the Fulcrum frequency. A distress code._

_She makes sure that her modulator is on. "This is Fulcrum. Who is this?"_

_The excited beeping of an old, but somewhat familiar astromech fills her hearing._

_As she listens, she looks out of the viewport. She watches an old Nu-class Republic assault shuttle rise. She is half-tempted to call him back. To have the familiar feeling at her back while facing this challenge._

_She lets him go._

~+~+~+~+~+

Dani Faygan wakes to a powerful sensation. She finds herself lying face down on a medbed, Her shirt is off; she is clad in dark green trousers. 

Her gray tunic and tank top lie on the floor. 

The backs of the garments slashed and dotted with blood and burns.

The powerful sensation returns. She nearly purrs as a cooling sensation moves down her shoulders and back.

Over the raw wound that had felt like she was being ripped apart. Even as shallow as this wound was. 

A wound received blocking a blow meant for her _Abeeyah._ Her father. The Dragon of Corellia, Draq' Bel Iblis.

She suddenly feels the cooling cloth lift from her wound. She feels the sting of an injector in her neck.

Unaccountably, she feels a cooling sensation again over her arms and upper shoulders. A sensation without the bacta infused cloth.

But just as soothing. She hears a musical voice in her ear. A voice that her distant self, watching from outside of her body, knows as well as her own.

Having heard it in her mind every waking moment in her life. Since the owner of the voice had passed from this life.

_Wait a minute. This isn't how this went. This was the first time we kissed. I wasn't even awake; coming out of bacta._

The beloved voice speaks. "I am so proud of you, Daaineran Faygan. I am so proud of the woman that you have become. The love for your family. Your life as a mother. The child that you have raised. The children, actually."

"I have only tried to follow your example with Jame. With Tal."

"I included him in your list of children."

Their laughter fades as they think of losses. "Dani, I can't speak to his loss. I can only say that you need to have faith. My fierce little huntress has always beaten the odds."

"I know, my love. I tell him that every day. Just wish he would believe it more. That he would live."

"You may need to show him how, again, Dani. You and your family. His hunt-sister when he can speak to her." Dani feels a smile. "You and your new heart-bond."

"Shaak, love, I..."

"Shhh. I am glad that you have found each other. To live and laugh. To remember your pain and losses to share them."

"No one can ever replace you, love," Dani chokes. "No. But others will take their place beside me."

Dani feels the presence fading as her consciousness fades for her past-self's bacta dip. "I love you, Daaineran Faygan. Always."

Dani starts awake. She looks down at the sleeping young women. They have pulled each other closer during the night. She disentangles her arm from her daughter and sits up.

Jame Blackthorn sits in the chair, looking at her. He smiles and stands. 

He extends his hand to her. She takes it and walks out of the room. 

As the door closes behind them, she smirks at him. "Thought you were supposed to be taking a long, relaxing bath."

"Yeah. I was. So relaxing we all fell asleep." She snorts. "Tell me you got them out of there so they wouldn't drown."

"When I left them, they were lying piled together in the shower where I put them."

"That would be a fun holo."

"Yep. It was." She sighs. "Just can't get good help anymore."

He stops and takes her shoulders. She looks up at him. "Jame. I think that it is time for you to live again. That was my intention when I sent you over there."

He looks away. He finally nods. "I know. Ahsoka told me as much." She smiles and speaks. "Another huntress told me that I might have to show you how to live, again." She smirks. "It ain't like I haven't taught you how before."

"Hey! I knew what to do before I met you." She pokes him in the chest. "I seem to remember a somewhat experienced, but somewhat clumsy Padawan on a Corellian liner."

He looks down. She laughs at his forlorn look. "A Padawan who made me scream and keep his Master awake all night."

She takes his hand. "Come on, Padawan. Let's get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow morning, we'll see about the light."

Two huntresses. One in the Force, the other elsewhere, but distant and missing. Both seem to give the sensation of smiling at their loves.

 **Epilogue:**  
**Imperial Naval Disciplinary Barracks**  
**Imperial Academy**  
**Lothal**

Noar Zan Arbor shifts in the arms of the two stormtroopers guiding her into the sunlight. She sees their objective.

A solitary, blaster resistant post in front of a pockmarked wall.

As promised, another trooper is attaching a metal seat to the front of the post. The trooper adjusts it to the proper height, as well as the fixtures on the back of the post.

She looks down at herself as her remaining leg propels her with the help of the troopers. She is clad in a short, bright yellow shift. She sees the stump at the her thigh start to ooze again.

It had been like that since the medical droid had removed the remnants of her artificial leg.

She looks up. The two troopers stop and turn around with her. They drop her in the cold metal seat. Her hands are pulled behind the post and affixed to the binders.

The troopers walk away. Her eyebrows raise. Instead of the promised fleet troopers, six stormtroopers look at her; their visors expressionless. Their long rifles are held at the trail. 

A uniformed noncom walks up to her. He holds a square of cloth to her. She spits in his face. Without a word, he uses the cloth to wipe her spit. He draws back his gloved hand and punches her in the face.

Noar spits out blood and grins at him. "I guess I don't get any last words. Or the charges read."

He draws his blaster. "No. You get six blaster bolts in your chest. Maybe in your gut to make you suffer a bit before I put this between those crazy eyes of yours."

"I was promised a Vice-Admiral to shoot me in the head. Not a noncom."

"Vice-Admiral Sloane had better things to do with her time."

He walks back to the file of troopers. She notices another trooper filming the proceedings. _Guess Sloane wants to see it, though._ She closes her eyes for a moment, remembering Sloane's dark skin under her lips. She smiles and opens her eyes.

She sees that the troopers have moved to parade rest. The filming trooper stops.

"I see you live up to your reputation, Doctor," a woman's voice says. 

Noar raises her eyebrows. A tall woman with dark hair and an Imperial uniform, or at least a strange red version of one walks from behind the file of troopers. The woman is familiar. She is also a bit younger than the disgraced scientist.

She jerks her head at the non-com. He and the two troopers who had brought Noar out walk over. They undo her restraints. She is about to stand when she sees another blond woman in a prison shift being brought out. 

This woman is dragged out, as she is limp. Noar is pulled up and the woman is placed in the chair. She realizes that the woman is dead.

"It was very hard finding a dead woman with your build and appearance. Especially dead rebels. This one was a pilot who crashed." The dry voice goes even dryer. "The leg was added, or should I say, subtracted later."

The noncom and his troopers are addressed. "Make sure you hit the face, as well as the chest. Those slightly psychotic aquamarine eyes are hard to duplicate."

Noar walks towards the woman with only a uniformed officer assisting. She jumps slightly at the crash of the blaster rifles, followed by a single shot. She steels herself.

As she walks closer, she sees the woman turn around, away from her. The noncom walks up to them both. "It is done, Colonel," he says. He turns towards Noar. "No hard feelings?"

Noar smiles. With a sudden move, she draws the noncom's blaster from his holster and fires it into his chest. "Nope. None at all."

She drops the blaster on his chest and stands calmly. The tableau is frozen. The Colonel slowly turns around. Noar looks into her eyes. "I may be dead, but I am not going to lie down, 'Colonel."

The young woman smiles. It is then that Noar sees her eyes. A blue eye looks out at her from the right side.

A piercing red eye stares out at ex-Imperial scientist from the left.

"Maybe so. Just remember who gave you another chance to serve the Empire."

Noar narrows her eyes. "Why?"is all she says. 

"You have talents that I can use, dear. Plus, one of your infiltration units checked in. They are en route to Naboo."

The woman smiles. "You are mine, Major Jenna Noar. You belong to Imperial Military Intelligence." Noar starts at the amalgamation of her and her mother's names. _Destiny_.

"My name is Colonel Ysanne Isard. Welcome back to the fight."

Noar smiles as she sees in her mind's eye an old _Consular_ cruiser facing her. Its damaged turbolaser firing at her. Of looking down and seeing her leg missing below the thigh. Of the man and woman sitting in the cockpit. A Zeltron woman and a human male with gray hair.

The faces of the Rebellion for her. 

Her true targets.


End file.
